


Halloween '88

by swannkings



Series: Portrait of Imogen Swift [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Alcohol, Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Prefect Pressure, Rivalry, Spin the Bottle, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 13:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15752523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swannkings/pseuds/swannkings
Summary: Imogen Swift has had a rough start to her fifth year at Hogwarts, most of all being Prefects with Merula Snyde. At the first upperclassman ball, Imogen and her friends break a few rules for the sake of a last hurrah.





	Halloween '88

****Imogen’s first kiss came just before midnight after the Halloween ball. She was wearing the knee-length forest green velvet dress she’d saved all summer to purchase, and Billingsley had snuck in a full bottle of Firewhisky transfigured into a tin of breath mints, and the upperclassmen had taken turns sipping from it when the chaperones turned their backs. Imogen was buzzing by the time Rowan had convinced several fifth years and a handful of sixth and seventh years to join in for a game of spin the bottle. Ben had even joined them, though Imogen imagined he’d accidentally drunk Gillywater spiked with Felix Felicis.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Billingsley beckoned, brandishing the empty glass bottle. “There is only so much time left before the fun comes grinding to a halt. Not only tonight, but in life. As this is my last year at Hogwarts, it is up to you fine fellows to continue the tradition of bending the rules to your will.”

“Can we just play the game?” asked a bored looking Ravenclaw sixth year.

“Yeah,” Charlie teased. “Time to celebrate the Age of Billingsley being done with.”

They laughed and Billingsley took his place in the circle with a huff.

“Just you wait,” he said. “Once I’m gone, the bar will be too high and there won’t be any fun left to be had.”

“Once you’re gone we’ll all finally get some sleep!” crowed a sixth year. Billingsley harrumphed, set the bottle down a little too forcefully and spun it with the flick of his wrist.

Tight knots of anticipation coiled in Imogen’s stomach as the bottle spun and sputtered over the stones. Although she thought Billingsley handsome, and the other sixth and seventh years were nice enough, she hadn’t thought of the prospect of having to kiss someone she didn’t know. She quickly glanced around the circle making a list of the participants she trusted, and secretly wishing Billingsley’s turn wouldn’t land on her. It didn’t, and she let out a sigh when he received a peck on the lips from a Ravenclaw girl. Charlie nudged Imogen and leaned in to whisper.

“What d’you wager?” he asked.

“What d’you have in mind?” The Ravenclaw girl spun the bottle.

“Two galleons, and nickname privileges for a week.”

“On pitch?” she proposed. Charlie hesitated before nodding, knowing he’d be in for it next game day if he lost.

“He’ll be out by round four,” she answered.

“I say six.” The bottle rattled as Penny spun it.

“ _Our_ Ben?” Imogen was surprised. Ben sat across the circle from them, his eyes following the spin, fists clutching his robes so tightly they’d turned ghostly white.

“Ye of little faith.”

Penny’s turn landed back on herself, so she spun again and landed on the Ravenclaw girl who’d gone before her.

“Oh, now this is boring,” Billingsley murmured.

“Do doubles count?” Imogen asked Charlie. He shook his head. Penny spun again, and Imogen could visibly see Ben’s anxiety coursing through his body. The bottle skidded to a stop, pointing straight at the nervous Gryffindor.

“Ben!” Imogen blurted a laugh, immediately ducking as the others shushed her. He chanced a glance to the corridor and then back to Penny.

“Don’t worry, I don't bite,” Penny smiled. She scooted to the center of the circle and held her hands out for him to take.

“Go on, Copper,” Barnaby encouraged, clapping him on the shoulder. “We won't look, right?”

Imogen, Charlie, and Rowan covered their eyes, and the other students followed with a little intimidation from Barnaby, albeit with some dramatics from Billingsley. All of them watched through their fingers and sent up whistles and hoots as soon as Penny’s lips touched Ben’s cheek, sending him scuttling back to his seat in the circle, with a warm blush and lopsided smile.

“That’s four, Cyndi,” Charlie whispered with a grin in his voice. Imogen wished she’d never tried _Colovaria_ on herself. It had turned a nice auburn color when she’d had help to fix her mistake, but she would never live down the multi-colored pixie cut. Just then Ben let out a yelp and stumbled over himself trying to get away from the group. The bottle had begun to move on its own, rattling and filling with a hazy air. A Cheshire grin appeared, followed by two eyes popping from the swirling mist.

“Prefects better flee,” Peeves hissed. The bottle began to spin dangerously fast over the stones, forcing the group to leap to their feet. Peeves shot the bottle across the courtyard and into the corridor where it smashed against the wall to the poltergeist’s screeching laugh. Ben scurried across the courtyard and down the hall, leaving the rest to scatter over the back wall. Billingsley and the other sixth and seventh years took off across the lawn to a place Imogen didn’t know. The drop from the wall was higher than Imogen expected and she landed hard on her hands and knees.

“Get down,” Penny whispered. The five of them crouched behind the wall. The distinct sound of billowing robes caught their ears. Snape’s silhouette blocked the way back into the castle. He gave a disgruntled sigh, cast _Reparo_ and picked the bottle up, then handed it to someone standing out of view.

“Keep an open eye,” he drawled. “Nights like these breed miscreants.”

When they were sure the corridor was clear, Charlie and Barnaby helped Rowan and Imogen back over the wall while Penny kept lookout. She waved them over and they hurried back passed the Great Hall.

“I should probably go find Ben and make sure he gets back to the common room before curfew,” Charlie said. “See you on the pitch, Cyndi.”

Imogen groaned.

“Oh,” Penny perked up. “Are we doing that again?”

“Penny, do you have any plasters? I think I cut my knee on the wall,” Imogen said. Wincing she lifted the hem of her dress away her knees. Both were turning a purple color, but one had a definitive gash across it.

“Shouldn’t you see Madam Pomfrey?” Roan asked.

“And give her what excuse?”

“I don’t see any,” Penny said, sifting through her robe pockets. “I must’ve given the last one to Tonks.”

“Here,” said Barnaby. He draped his robe over Imogen’s shoulders. It was far too long and too big. “Now no one will see if we get caught. You’re a Prefect after all. Snape would have your badge.”

“You’re starting to drip,” Rowan pointed.

Barnaby insisted on carrying Imogen piggyback and she wondered if he’d had more Firewishky than she’d seen. The four of them continued down the corridor, music from the ball fading behind them. Penny and Rowan walked arm-in-arm ahead of Barnaby and Imogen, singing a song Penny had played for them on the train ride at the start of year. Imogen relaxed into her friend, hiding her cold nose in the crook of her arm. She had started dozing off a little when Barnaby spoke.

“Tonight was fun,” he said. His voice seemed lazier than usual. It was a simple sentence, and perhaps she was very tired or the alcohol was more than she anticiapted, but Imogen’s heart swelled. She could feel tears welling up, teetering against her lashes. Penny and Rowan were too far ahead to see. She pulled herself forward a little and kissed his cheek. Barnaby faltered in his step, but didn’t stop. “What was that for?”

Those pesky tears started to fall. Barnaby immediately let her down careful of her knee.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. She shook her head.

“No,” she said, wiping tears with the sleeve of his robe.

“Is it your hair again?”

“No,” she laughed. “I don’t know. Just… overwhelmed I guess. Do you ever feel all over the place? Like, every little thing makes absolutely no sense?”

“All the time.” He smiled. “But, you know that.”

She smiled up at him. “I love you, Barnaby Lee.”

“Hurry up!” Penny hissed from the end of the corridor. Barnaby swung an arm over Imogen’s shoulder and they walked the rest of the way downstairs side by side. When they met up with Penny and Rowan at the Hufflepuff’s portrait. Penny made them wait while she went up to her dormitory for something.

“Do you think it’s another one of those records?” Rowan asked. She had become fascinated with Penny’s record player and the muggle songs she’d tried to teach them. A clinking sound echoed through the dungeon’s corridor. Glass on stone. They turned to see Merula standing at the top of the stairs, an empty Firewhisky bottle in hand.

“Did I miss the party?” she asked. Her Prefect’s badge shone in the torchlight.

“Everyone above fourth year was invited, Merula,” said Barnaby. She rolled her eyes.

“Your brain just shrinks more every day.”

“Knock it off, Merlua,” Imogen snipped. “We’re just going down. In bed by curfew. Promise.”

Penny came back through the portrait with a square plastic box in hand. She greeted Merula like nothing seemed amiss, pointed the box straight at her and clicked a button. A flash of light went off and the little box whirred before spitting out a square of paper. Penny pulled the paper out and started fanning it around.

“Is that a camera?” Imogen asked, bewildered. Most electronic things didn’t work on school grounds without some sort of enchantment.

“Uh-huh, my dad bought it for me for my birthday. I didn’t know if it’d work or not, but this seems like a good time to try it. Look!”

The photo had developed within minutes, no solution or dark room required. It was different from all the photos Imogen had seen growing up. It didn’t move. There was Merula, trapped with a sour face for all eternity.

“Give me that,” Merula snapped, yanking the photo from Penny’s hand. She inspected it at arm's length before ripping it in two. “That’s detention, Haywood.”

“You can’t do that,” scoffed Imogen. “Besides, Penny’s a Prefect.”

Merula raised her eyebrows. “You know the rules better than anybody, Swift. Prefects can give detentions, so I’m giving detention.”

“That’s a blatant abuse of your position,” Rowan said, anger seeping into her tone.

“Wanna make it two?”

Rowan scowled, but closed her mouth.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Penny. “I love the smell of the Potions classroom.”

Penny said her goodnights and went back up to her dormitory with a infuriated swish of her braids. Rowan stomped off to the Slytherin common room, asking the chamber door to slam itself.

“Why are you so mean, Merula?” Barnaby asked. He followed Rowan, leaving Imogen staring daggers at Merula. Without another word, Imogen turned on her heel and headed for their common room. Merula was right behind her. Just as the door shut on the empty room, Merula’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm and twisting her back around.

“ _We have an image to protect!_ ” Merula hissed as not to wake the younger housemates. “You’re lucky Snape didn’t see you.”

“Oh, and what would it have mattered to you?” Imogen lowered her voice and continued. “I’d have lost my badge and you’d be rubbing it in my face for the next three years.” Imogen was incensed. “Is that not what you want, Merula? Total superiority?”

She yanked her arm free and sat hard on the sofa in front of the fire. The air was tense. After a long moment, Merula set the bottle on the table and climbed the stairs up to the girl’s dormitory. Imogen buried her face in her hands and began to cry, fat, salty tears. She hadn’t been sleeping well, she was constantly studying for upcoming OWLs; being Prefects with Merula Snyde was just the cherry on top. The Halloween ball was supposed to be a well earned night off with friends and dancing and food.

A door from behind softly clicked open and closed. Imogen hoped it wasn’t one of the younger students and attempted to calm her throat. The person moved the bottle into a bin beside the desk and then approached Imogen, sitting across from her.

“I really don’t want to talk right now,” she said, not looking up. She sounded miserable, and she was.

“That’s okay,” Barnaby said. “I can talk for both of us.”

She wanted to cry again. When she finally dropped her hands he was sitting on the edge of the coffee table with a small tea tin in his lap. From it he pulled a vial of clear liquid, a cotton ball, and a sealed bandage.

“Penny gave this to me last Christmas because of all the times I got hurt in Care for Magical Creatures. She thought it’d be easier than trying to remember all the healing spells. Plus, if you don’t use magic right away, you can get some cool scars. This will sting a little, but it’ll help.”

Barnaby tipped the vial so the cotton ball soaked up the liquid, then passed it over the cut on her knee. She jumped at first. Whatever the liquid was stung until Barnaby leaned over and lightly blew on the wound, turning the burn into a prickling feeling. He used the corner of his dress robe to wipe away the rest of the blood and finally smoothed the bandage over the wound.

“This one’ll be a really cool scar, if you want one.” He popped the top back on the vial and tossed out the bloodied cotton in the bin.

“Barnaby?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for being you.”

The room was quiet only for the crackling fire. A sheepish look came over Barnaby’s face. His face always showed so much expression that anyone could tell what he was feeling before he said so.

“Do you mind if I kiss you? For real?” he asked.

Her breath caught in surprise. She exhaled. “Okay.”

Imogen would replay the kiss over in her head for months. The way he held her face in his large hands, how soft and warm his lips were against hers. Barnaby had kissed others before her and he was good at it, or at least Imogen thought so. The kiss only lasted a moment, but she swore she tasted his toothpaste for hours after. Euphoria rouged her cheeks and the butterflies in her stomach beat their wings furiously. She couldn’t keep herself from giggling when he pulled away, and suddenly found it difficult to keep eye contact, but she knew he was grinning as well. The clocktower began to chime in the distance.

The common room door opened suddenly, and a handful of giggling stragglers stumbled in, taking little notice of the two except to wish their Prefect a goodnight, knowing she wouldn’t bother to chastise them.

“We should get to bed, too,” said Imogen, rising from the sofa. “Tomorrow’s a study day.”

Barnaby picked up his things and Imogen returned his now soiled robe. As she ascended the steps up to the dormitory level, she noted she couldn’t stop smiling. She wondered if she could capture the blissful feeling in a bottle or a spell, so that no matter what she could always feel so warm and giddy without the consequences of alcohol or love potions. She snuck quietly into the fifth year’s dormitory and slipped her shoes off at the foot of her bed, not bothering to change out of her dress before letting down the curtains and curling up under the duvet with her orange tabby cat beside her. Barnaby Lee was one of her best friends, and she loved him dearly.


End file.
